


Doors Opened

by concordances



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concordances/pseuds/concordances
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone in the dorm is having a collective breakdown, the third floor hallway smells of dirty laundry, and Seunghoon’s carefully cultivated routine is blown to pieces the night before finals week officially begins.</p><p>It’s a good thing he isn’t trying to deny his unrequited feelings for the neighbour across the hall, on top of everything. That sure would suck. [College AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doors Opened

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girltalk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girltalk/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY REET!!!
> 
> Cries, where do I even begin. I'd planned for the longest time to write something for you, but nothing was going right and I ended up scrapping what I had multiple times. I wish I had enough time to write you your dream coffee shop au, but I hope you enjoy this little offering! Please look upon my first winner attempt kindly (I like them so much - but not as much as I like you). At the very least, I hope this brings you some entertainment u__u ♥

Seunghoon doesn’t need to step far out of his room to see evidence that finals week has arrived. The air of dread hanging over their dorm had built up over time, but the stack of discarded pizza boxes in the hallway is growing at an alarming rate. Personal hygiene levels in the dorm are at an all-time low.

He avoids looking at the dirty dishes in the sink as he enters the kitchen, trying not think of all the chapters he still has to read– a third of which he didn’t attend the lectures for. It feels like there’s something stretched taut inside of him, ready to snap at any moment.

Everyone has their own way of coping. Seunghoon’s involves careful and concise planning, mostly to give himself the illusion that he has his life in order. His revision schedule is pinned to the notice board in his room. On the last day of class, he’d crafted a list of every food item he would need to get him through reading week, and gone out to the nearest mart to stock up on them. Grades are flimsy and unpredictable, but a good snack will never let you down.

He makes it all the way to the Sunday night before finals without noticing the flaw in his coping mechanism– that is, building his well-being around something so delicate. His sanity rests almost entirely on everything going according to plan. One disruption, and everything crumbles.

Which is why, when he opens the fridge and can’t find what he’s looking for, he snaps.

 

 

 

Seungyoon doesn’t answer his door until Seunghoon threatens to upload that one video of him drunk dancing to Instagram. Once Seunghoon gets a proper look at him, he sees why– both Seungyoon’s hair and the oversized t-shirt he’s wearing look like they haven’t been washed in a week. The black frames perched on his nose do little to hide his dark circles.

“I’m sorry,” Seunghoon says slowly. “I thought this room belonged to my friend–”

“What,” Seungyoon hisses. “Do you want?”

Truth be told, Seunghoon likes this Seungyoon far better than the leather jacket-wearing, designer bag-carrying one. There’s a sense of solidarity in the suffering student concept. Seungyoon in the day looks like someone who’d go around wearing glasses without lenses in them. Seungyoon at night– Seunghoon extends a finger to touch, and ends up jabbing Seungyoon’s eye through the frame.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Seungyoon hisses, jerking back and cupping his face as Seunghoon stares, affronted by the display of pretentiousness at this hour. “What do you want, seriously, I’ll shut the door on you–”

“I’m looking for a sidekick,” Seunghoon says, leaning on the doorframe so that Seungyoon can’t follow through with his threat. “Would you be interested in applying?”

Seungyoon eyes him with his good eye. He seems to consider it. “Is the base pay higher than if I were to flunk out of college?”

“No,” Seunghoon admits. “But the experience will be invaluable.” He spreads his arms. Seungyoon looks unconvinced. “I’ll delete the video of you dancing,” Seunghoon relents. He has a backup copy on his hard drive, anyway.

Seungyoon nods. “Fine. What is it this time, limited edition dog treats? Setting Junhwe up with that med school student?”

Seunghoon scoffs. “Jinhwan is too good for him. No, this is personal.” He lowers his voice, even though there’s no one in the hallway to overhear them. “Someone stole my yogurt drinks. The _entire bag_ of them.”

Seungyoon looks stunned for a second, and then has the nerve to laugh. “That’s what this is about?”

“This isn’t the first time it’s happened,” Seunghoon mutters darkly. “I’m going to find them. And then I’m going to crush them.”

Seungyoon is looking at him with a sympathy in his eye that’s also an accurate reflection of how Seunghoon feels about his sense of fashion. “Exam stress,” Seungyoon shakes his head. You’re delirious. How do you know _I_ didn’t take your drinks?”

“I don’t,” Seunghoon answers. “If you did, I’m docking your pay.”

Seungyoon raises an eyebrow. “Why not ask Minho?”

“He’s not sidekick material,” Seunghoon waves a dismissive hand. “You’ll do.” In truth, he likes Seungyoon best. He must, or else he wouldn’t have sought him out despite Seungyoon’s well-known love for yogurt drinks.

“I’ll help you for a short while,” Seungyoon decides. “But you have to study with me on Tuesday.” The fact that he’s trying to make a deal of it probably means he has terrible study habits. Whatever it is, it can’t be any worse than studying with Junhwe or Bobby, or worse– both of them at the same time. Seunghoon is a seasoned pro.

“Okay,” Seunghoon agrees. “But I get the desk.”

 

 

 

Jinwoo’s room is nearest the kitchen– an arrangement, Seunghoon is sure, made specially to ensure he won’t lose his way there and die of starvation, or something.

“Should we really be doing this now?” Seungyoon asks, trailing behind Seunghoon in a pair of very unattractive flip-flops. He’d ditched the fake glasses, but the cap he’s wearing makes his face look even puffier than before. “I heard geography exams are early in the morning. He must be busy cramming. He’s probably stressed.”

Seunghoon rolls his eyes. “This will only take a minute.” He raises his hand to knock on the door, but stills when he hears quiet sniffles coming from behind it. The sniffles grow in volume, until they become perfectly audible sobs.

“You were right,” Seunghoon does an abrupt about-turn that makes Seungyoon jump. “He’s busy. In fact, I think he’s having a breakdown–”

Seungyoon pushes past him and knocks on the door.

“Come in,” says a tearful voice.

Seungyoon complies. Seunghoon follows cautiously, eyes quickly drawn to the colourful atlas pinned above Jinwoo’s desk. Next to it is an even bigger map of the school campus. Apparently, geography majors come in all shapes and sizes.

At the center of the room is Jinwoo, hunched over his laptop, tissues in hand.

“Jinwoo?” Seungyoon ventures, eyebrows pulled together in concern. He did always seem to have a bit of a thing for Jinwoo. It’s kind of annoying. It also has absolutely nothing to do with Seunghoon.

Jinwoo turns and offers them a watery smile. On the screen of his laptop, a pretty girl is walking through a graveyard holding a bouquet of lilies. Hang on.

“Sorry,” Jinwoo says. “I’m such a mess. It’s just– the ending gets me every time. Even though he loved her, he gave his life for his brother, who wasn’t even his real brother, just someone adopted by his mother because his love interest’s father lied to her and made her believe her son was dead–”

Seunghoon puts a hand over his face. Next to him, Seungyoon snorts. “Are you _watching dramas_?”

Jinwoo blinks. “Yeah? What else would I–” his gaze falls to the textbook lying open on his desk and he trails off, eyes widening.

Seungyoon sighs. Somehow, it sounds fond. “Seunghoon has a question for you.”

“Yeah?” The way Jinwoo looks unblinkingly up at them is reminiscent of Puss in Boots from _Shrek_. Seunghoon has to remind himself not to fall for Jinwoo’s charms. The cute ones are always the dangerous ones. Puss in Boots from _Shrek_ was an assassin.

“I could sure use a yogurt drink right now,” Seunghoon say, voice raised slightly for dramatic effect. “What a shame, I seem to have run out. I definitely had a whole bag of them in the fridge just yesterday. Don’t you just hate it when that happens?”

Jinwoo expression morphs into one of confusion.

“Did you steal Seunghoon’s yogurt drinks?” Seungyoon translates. He doesn’t flinch when Seunghoon glares at him.

“Steal his yogurt drinks?” Jinwoo asks.

“There,” Seungyoon says, turning back to Seunghoon. “See? He didn’t do it. Are we done? Some of us have exams tomorrow.”

Seunghoon studies the distressed scrunch of Jinwoo’s brow. Objectively, Jinwoo doesn’t look like he’s hiding anything. Subjectively, Jinwoo has won over his only ally, which says something. If there’s anything Seunghoon wholeheartedly believes in, it’s Seungyoon’s poor taste.

“I’ll figure you out, Kim Jinwoo,” Seunghoon promises as he lets Seungyoon drag him from the room, not missing the way Seungyoon mouths an apology to Jinwoo on their way out.

 

 

 

It turns out Seungyoon doesn’t have terrible study habits. Seungyoon doesn’t study enough to _have_ study habits.

On Tuesday, Seunghoon discovers that Seungyoon can be pretty productive when he wants to be. He arranges the books on his shelf in alphabetical order, downloads four different waffle recipes online, vacuums under his bed, and composes an entire song in the time he should be preparing for his Asian History exam on Friday.

“It’s hopeless,” he says miserably, collapsing face-down on his bed. His notes scatter. Without lifting his head, Seungyoon reaches out and starts gathering them into a pile. At least the tidiness of his room compensates for the mess that’s his life. “I can’t do it, Seunghoon, talk to me.”

Seunghoon puts his pen down. Picks up his textbook (Developmental Psychology, Ninth Edition) and leans back in Seungyoon’s chair. “The third stage of psychosocial development takes place between the age of three and five,” he reads off the page. “Children start to take initiative in their activities. Irresponsibility leads to guilt.” He casts a pointed look at Seungyoon. “How does it feel being a toddler?”

Seungyoon rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. “You’re the worst study buddy in the world. I’m never studying with you again.”

“What a shame,” Seunghoon mutters, going back to his reading. He regrets printing everything out in font size 10. Saving trees is all very well until you go blind.

“Did you hear?” Seungyoon says, sitting up suddenly. “The fire alarm went off last night in Jiho’s dorm, in Block B. Everyone had to evacuate the building.” His eyes take on a faraway look, as if recounting a memory that belongs to him rather than having been retold to him by Minho, who heard it from Jiho himself. “Everyone was cramming. Absolute chaos. I’d be up for something like that.”

Seunghoon gets out of his seat to grab a pillow from Seungyoon’s bed and hurl it at his face. “Study,” he commands. “Or I’ll send that video of you dancing straight to your fanclub. No one will love you after they see it.”

Seungyoon blinks owlishly up at him. “Wait, really?”

Seunghoon frowns. “Have you seen it? That was the worst excuse for twerking I have _ever_ –”

“No,” Seungyoon says. “The part about me having a fanclub.”

Seunghoon throws his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know. I made that up. I’m sure Minho can find an actual answer to that if you pay him.”

Seungyoon collapses back onto the bed and throws an arm over his face. “I will,” he says, voice coming out muffled. “If I don’t die before then.”

 

 

 

Wednesday’s exams go smoothly, all things considered. Seungyoon does not die. Seunghoon answers a ten-mark essay question on the stages of psychosocial development, and pictures babies with Seungyoon’s face as he writes.

In the evening, they return to the dorm and get down to business.

The door at the far end of the hallway has been shut since the first day of study break. No one has seen Taehyun emerge from his room since. Seunghoon initially thought he’d gotten fed up and put in a request for a transfer, but the sound of Bob Marley’s croons at odd hours of the morning quickly debunked that theory.

“Is he even in?” Seungyoon wonders. Today, his hair looks clean enough for him not to have to wear anything to cover it. Seunghoon steps towards the door and presses his ear to it. Nothing but the sound of solid wood.

“It probably wasn’t him,” Seungyoon muses. “He doesn’t seem the type who would like yogurt drinks.”

“He doesn’t seem the type who would like a lot of things,” Seunghoon points out.

Seungyoon lets out a slow exhale, then claps his hands together. “Well,” he announces. “I guess that concludes today’s investigation. That was disappointing–” here, he looks anything _but_ disappointed, “But such is life. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in my room studying. Actually, I’ll be in Jinwoo’s room studying.”

“But we haven’t talked to Minho yet,” Seunghoon protests.

“Minho is at Jiho’s, I saw him leave earlier.” At the look on Seunghoon’s face, Seungyoon frowns. “You know, I could just buy you more yogurt drinks.”

“This isn’t about the yogurt drinks,” Seunghoon says primly. “This is about justice.”

“Well,” Seungyoon deflates a little as he searches for an answer. “Tell justice to wait until finals week is over.” And with that, he turns on his heel and leaves Seunghoon at the end of the hallway, feeling strangely abandoned.

 _Whatever_ , Seunghoon thinks. It’s no big deal. Seungyoon probably won’t get much studying done with Jinwoo. They’ll probably end up watching dramas together, or chatting, or doing something that involves not studying and lots of bonding so that they become even closer than they already are… With a final glance at Taehyun’s door, Seunghoon turns and trudges back to his own room.

He’d invested a lot into those yogurt drinks, Seunghoon reminds himself. Not just monetarily, but emotionally. That’s the only reason he feels frustrated.

 

 

 

There’s a note taped to the door of the room beside the stairwell. _SONG MINHO IS NOT HERE_ , it reads in Song Minho’s distinct, slightly slanted handwriting. _DO NOT DISTURB_. Seunghoon extends a hand and pauses. Seungyoon had shut himself in his room today– again– as part of his prolonged battle with Asian History, which means Seunghoon has no one to share a look with before he knocks.

It’s not Minho, but Minho’s friend-slash-unofficial-roommate Jiho who answers the door. “Hello,” he says. “Minho isn’t here. Can’t you read?”

“I can hear,” Seunghoon says flatly. “Tell Minho to come out here for a second. I’ll buy drinks for your next party.”

Minho and Jiho aren’t difficult to figure out. By now, most of the dorm has grown accustomed to how they operate: a test is done well for, or an important assignment successfully turned in. In celebration, Mino and Jiho throw a party. One of the university’s sports teams wins a game at the inter-school championships. In celebration, Minho and Jiho throw a party. It’s a peaceful Friday night. In celebration, Minho and Jiho throw a party.

They haven’t thrown a party in over a week, and even if Seunghoon would never say it out loud, he’s relieved. They’re good parties– Seunghoon goes to most of them, usually to watch Seungyoon get drunk– but no one will deny that loud voices and heavy bass is a poor choice of background noise for studying.

Minho looks dazed when he comes to the door. Seunghoon feels sorry for him until he remembers his purpose. “Hey,” he says. “Do you like yogurt drinks?”

“I do,” Jiho pipes up from somewhere in the room.

“Yogurt?” Minho looks completely out of it. He squints at Seunghoon, as if struggling to comprehend how he ended up there and what he wants. “Did you come here for gossip? I’ll tell you what you want to know for five thousand won.”

 _Gossip_ sounds so high school. Seunghoon doesn’t know how Minho built such an impressive network in under two years, but whatever information Minho has will probably be irrelevant to his investigation. Irrelevant, but interesting.

He hands the money over. “Tell me something I don’t know about Jinwoo and Taehyun.” After a moment, he adds, “And Seungyoon.”

Some of the light returns to Minho’s eyes. He leans in conspiratorially. “There’s a video out there somewhere of Seungyoon dancing to–”

“I know that one,” Seunghoon interrupts. “I took the video. Next.”

“Jinwoo is smart,” Minho says. “Doesn’t act it, but last I heard, he had an A minus average.”

Seunghoon nods, satisfied. “And Taehyun?”

Minho looks thoughtful before responding. “When I took out the trash last week, I saw him outside the dorm with a girl.”

Seunghoon imagines for a moment a well-adjusted Taehyun with a normal social life. Weird. Kind of fascinating, but not anything that will help at the moment.

“Thanks,” Seunghoon says, resting a hand on Minho’s shoulder. He hasn’t forgotten Minho is one of his prime suspects, but it doesn’t seem like he’ll be getting much out of him tonight. Maybe Seunghoon will come back with Seungyoon. A thorough questioning will have to wait.

Minho bids him goodbye with a wave.

 

 

 

Seunghoon survives two more exams on Thursday, then heads over to Seungyoon’s room in the evening to study for his last paper. Seungyoon doesn’t answer the door, so Seunghoon lets himself in, privacy be damned.

Most of the room’s interior is as disturbingly neat as it had been on Tuesday. Seungyoon’s guitar is lying on his bed, looking a little lonely. Littered around it are several half-filled music sheets, and even more that have been crumpled and tossed aside.

Seunghoon peers into the bin next to Seungyoon’s bed. That’s a lot of discarded–

He freezes. Reaches his hand into the bin and gingerly moves several layers of paper, snack wrappers, and a wad of tissues he doesn’t really want to think about aside.

There, nestled at the bottom of the bin, are three empty yogurt drink bottles.

Seungyoon chooses that moment to return. He closes the door behind him with a bang that makes Seunghoon jump, and then jumps when he sees Seunghoon there.

“What are you doing?” Seungyoon asks, hand over his chest. His bare chest.

Whatever accusation that had been ready at the tip of Seunghoon’s tongue dies when he registers that Seungyoon is wearing nothing but towel. His wet hair suggests he’d just showered. Suddenly, Seunghoon can’t remember what he was going to say or do. As a result, he just kind of stays still and waits for Seungyoon to draw his own conclusion.

Seungyoon walks over, a puzzled look on his face. “Are you going through my–” his eyes fall to the yogurt drink bottles in the bin. “Oh.”

“Yes,” Seunghoon says coldly, finding his voice at last. “Care to explain?”

Seungyoon puts his hands up in a defensive gesture. “It’s not what you think–”

“Oh really?” Seunghoon demands. Shirtless or not, Seungyoon won’t be forgiven if he’s a liar, a traitor, a filthy thief–

“I didn’t take out my trash,” Seungyoon says quickly, recoiling at the sharp look Seunghoon gives him. “Those bottles are… old. Really old. Look–” Seungyoon bends down and pulls one out. “See that green stuff at the bottom? Mould.” He waves it in Seunghoon’s face.

A silence follows.

“That’s gross,” Seunghoon snaps.

Seungyoon has the good grace to look ashamed. “I know.”

Their study session is delayed while Seungyoon takes out his trash. Seunghoon tells him to put on a shirt, then feels disappointed when he does, then has to reevaluate himself. By the time they sit down to start revision, Seungyoon isn’t the only one having trouble focusing.

The way Seungyoon’s wet hair falls over his face is pretty nice-looking. Seunghoon tries not to think about it.

 

 

 

Eventually, finals week comes to an end. In celebration, Minho and Jiho throw a party.

Seunghoon, ever the honest and upstanding friend, makes good on his promise and brings alcohol. He also pays for half of it with Minho’s card, which he’d found on the kitchen counter, but Minho doesn’t need to know that. The dorm lounge fills up within an hour, and at some point Seunghoon hears _Bo Peep Bo Peep_ come on at full volume and is reminded that Seungyoon promised he would look for him.

He makes his way to the side of the room where he finds a very tipsy Jinwoo, who wobbles up to Seunghoon and leans his head on his shoulder like they’re the best of buddies rather than rivals(?) in love. It’s probably less a friendly gesture than a means of staying upright.

“Are you waiting for Seungyoon?” Jinwoo slurs.

“Yes,” Seunghoon answers, too distracted by the thought of having to be responsible for a drunk Jinwoo _and_ Seungyoon to reply anything but honestly.

Jinwoo turns his large, slightly unfocused Puss in Boots eyes on him. “You’ve been waiting for him a long time,” he says softly. “You should do something.”

Seunghoon pauses, not liking the turn this conversation has taken. “You’re too drunk to be saying stuff like that,” he says, reaching for the cup in Jinwoo’s hand. Jinwoo moves it out of the way with surprising dexterity. Then he takes the opportunity to grab Seunghoon by the shoulder and pull him downwards.

Seunghoon will admit– he thinks Jinwoo is trying to kiss him. He freaks out a little. But Jinwoo just leans close enough that his mouth is to Seunghoon’s ear. “He really likes you,” he whispers, like he’s divulging a big secret. Which he probably is.

Seunghoon stiffens. “What,” he says.

“Always talks about you,” Jinwoo says seriously, releasing his hold. “All he talks about is Seunghoon, Seunghoon, Seunghoon…”

“You’re drunk,” Seunghoon says faintly, trying not to think of the implication of that statement. In general, he tries to avoid thinking about Seungyoon and feelings that are anything other than platonic. Now _he_ feels dizzy, without even having drank anything. “I’m not sure I can take your word for it.”

Jinwoo hiccups. “Didn’t even study for his last exam, was so busy playing detective...”

Seunghoon groans. “I’m going to fire him.”

Jinwoo’s eyes grow round. “Fire?”

“Yes,” Seunghoon says firmly. “Right now.”

“You’re going to do what now?” asks a new voice. Seunghoon whips around to see Seungyoon standing there, cup in hand but missing a familiar flush on his cheeks.

“You’re not drunk,” Seunghoon says, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “I had my video recorder ready.” He tries not to think of the conversation he’d just had with Jinwoo. Seungyoon is looking at him with bright eyes, the dim lighting adding to the allure of his smile. Great, now the new knowledge had turned Seunghoon into every protagonist of a teenage romance novel. He gazes longingly at the drink in Seungyoon’s hand.

“Very funny” Seungyoon says. “And to think I was looking for you while you were standing right here, preying on–” He frowns. “Where’s Jinwoo?”

Seunghoon turns and finds the space where Jinwoo had been previously standing in empty. “Huh. He was here a minute ago.”

Seungyoon’s expression turns grim. “A drunk Jinwoo is a menace, I should’ve kept an eye on him. What was the last thing he said to you?”

Seunghoon thinks back to their conversation. “Fire?”

Seungyoon pales.

Seunghoon can’t count the number of times he’s been woken in the middle of the night by a jiggling doorknob– the sound of Jinwoo trying desperately to get into his room, thinking it’s his own. On bad days, Jinwoo can’t even remember how to exit the building. So there’s no explanation for how he’s able to navigate his way out of the room, while drunk, down the correct hallway, and to the fire alarm.

Twenty minutes later, all occupants of the building find themselves congregated outside, huddled on the patch of lawn in front of the dorm as they wait for confirmation that the building isn’t, in fact, on fire.

“Well,” Seunghoon says to Seungyoon, whose nose is starting to turn pink from the cold. “You got your wish.” Seunghoon is shivering as well; no one had the time to grab a jacket after the alarm had gone off. Jinwoo sits between them on the grass, prodding at the ground and mumbling to himself.

“Not the way I imagined things to go,” Seungyoon mutters. Even so, he huffs out a small laugh and shakes his head.

“Where’s Jinwoo?” a loud voice demands. Seconds later, Minho comes stumbling over, stopping in front of them and glowering at Jinwoo, who raises his hand like a child being marked for attendance.

“Seunghoon,” Jinwoo whines, turning and looking up at him– for what, Seunghoon isn’t sure. Maybe he’s hoping Seunghoon will defend him.

“Seunghoon,” Minho growls. “Tell me what you said to Jinwoo.”

“Seunghoon,” Jinwoo repeats. “Tell Minho I didn’t do it.”

“Look,” Seungyoon says.

Seunghoon raises a hand to silence him. “It’s fine,” he says. “This is the price of popularity. I’m used to it.”

“No, really, look,” Seungyoon points to something behind them. In the last few seconds, his eyes have grown comically wide. “Is that Nam Taehyun?”

 

 

 

Taehyun looks extremely hassled, as expected of someone forced to exit their room at such short notice, and who had allegedly spent the last week holed up in there without leaving for longer than it would take to attend an exam or take a shower.

More notably, though, Taehyun is carrying a toddler. A toddler with a yogurt drink clutched in his tiny hands.

Four pairs of eyes stare at him.

“What the fuck,” Minho says eventually, which more or less summarises what everyone is thinking. Taehyun glares and puts his hands over the toddler’s ears, a little too late. Then he seems to realise what conclusion everyone has drawn and blanches.

“He’s not mine,” Taehyun says quickly. “I babysit him.”

The toddler opens his mouth and gurgles something incomprehensible. He could be reciting a sonnet but it would hardly matter, since whatever he says is lost among the sudden barrage of questions aimed at Taehyun.

“You’ve been hiding a _baby_ in your room?”

“Is that allowed?”

“Someone trusted _you_ with their child?”

“Can I hold him?”

The last one had been Minho, who inches forward hopefully. Taehyun looks at him as if he’d just suggested streaking through the park together.

Every emotion that had been bubbling up in Seunghoon from the moment he’d seen the yogurt drink in the toddler’s hands and put two and two together finally bursts from him.

“It was _you_ ,” Seunghoon cries, pointing an accusing finger and Taehyun. His finger trembles, though thankfully not from genuine anger. “ _You_ stole my yogurt drinks. _You_ sent me on that wild goose chase right before finals week. And not for yourself, but for–”

“Hayul,” Taehyun supplies. He avoids Seunghoon’s eye.

“He’s not denying it,” Seungyoon says in awe.

With the incident behind him, Seunghoon is pretty excited to have found the culprit. Still, he feels compelled to play his role of the dreadfully wronged to the very end. “If you think I’m going to let you off just because my drinks were used to sustain a child, think again!” Hayul is cute, but not _that_ cute.

“I’ll pay you back,” Taehyun mumbles.

“Wait a minute,” Minho says suddenly. “So that girl you’ve been talking to outside the dorm at night isn’t your girlfriend?”

Taehyun’s face turns several shades of colours before it settles somewhere between red and purple. “That’s Hayul’s mom,” he manages. “She’s been dropping him off this past week because she works nearby. Usually I go to Hayul’s house, but you know. Finals.”

“Finals,” the rest of them echo. In unison, they turn to look at their dorm– its lights all turned on, residents meandering around outside until they’re allowed to return. Management is probably doing a final check; the students nearest the entrance look like they’re getting ready to reenter the building.

Seungyoon nudges Seunghoon in the side and smiles sheepishly. “What a week, huh?”

Seunghoon nods, feeling strangely at peace. “You can say that again.”

 

 

 

Seunghoon leaves his door unlocked the day finals results are released. Exactly two minutes after the clock strikes noon, Seungyoon flings it open and bounds in. Seunghoon notes with slight annoyance the familiar pair of black glasses on his face.

“Guess who got an A for Asian History?”

Seunghoon sits up in bed. “You didn’t,” he says, feeling something inside him curl in indignation. “You’re lying. You didn’t even study for that paper.”

“You’re right, I got a C,” Seungyoon admits. “But I passed, didn’t I?” He looks inordinately proud of himself. Seunghoon snorts.

“Come here,” he says, patting the space next to him. “And take those things off your face.”

“Never,” Seungyoon beams, walking over and plopping himself down with enough force that the bed bounces. Seunghoon reaches over for Seungyoon’s glasses, but Seungyoon bats his hand away. Seunghoon settles for watching him wiggle around to get comfortable. Not the way his t-shirt rides up a little, though. Seunghoon hasn’t stooped to that level yet.

“So,” Seungyoon says after a while. “I had an interesting conversation with Jinwoo.”

Seunghoon clears his throat, trying not to look bothered. “That’s funny,” he says. ““I had an interesting conversation with Jinwoo too.”

“He told me about the conversation he had with you at the party.”

Seunghoon makes a noise of acknowledgement. If Jinwoo had known both sides of the story and shared them as such, both he and Seungyoon should be on the same wavelength now. No misunderstandings, just a heavy dose of awkwardness.

“Come hang out in my room tonight,” Seungyoon says suddenly. “I have yogurt drinks.”

Whatever effect he’s probably going for is ruined by how red his face has turned in the last three seconds. Also, _I have yogurt drinks_ is quite possible the worst pick-up line Seunghoon has ever heard.

And just like that, the tension is broken.

Seunghoon relaxes against his mattress. A few variations of responses flit through his head, most of them rude. He decides to humour Seungyoon. “And what if I agree?”

“We could… watch a movie?” Seungyoon suggests nervously. “Or play League? You know. Normal stuff.”

“I don’t really like yogurt drinks,” Seunghoon lies. “I was delirious from exam stress.”

Seungyoon shoots him a look. “Don’t be difficult.”

Seunghoon returns it. “Don’t be pretentious.”

“You say that, but–” the rest of Seungyoon’s sentence turns into an unmanly squeal as Seunghoon crawls over and straddles him, pinning his arms above his head. “What are you–”

Seunghoon leans in close. He’s pretty sure Seungyoon stops breathing.

Then Seunghoon reaches forward and yanks the glasses off Seungyoon face.

“Finally,” he cackles, jumping out of bed as Seungyoon makes a half-hearted grab for them. “I _hate_ these things.”

Seungyoon stares up at him from where he’s lying, eyes wide and hair ruffled. “Give them back,” he says weakly.

“You can have them later,” Seunghoon promises. “After we do the _normal stuff_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Biggest thank you to my sister for sitting through countless skype session of me despairing over this, working through multiple plots with me, and proofreading the final product. This fic wouldn't exist without you ;__; thank you also to Alice for being my eternal support (and for making seungyoon take a shower)!
> 
> And finally, ILY REET ♥ I've been so bad with words lately, but you mean the world to me and if this fic could express even a fraction of that, I would be very happy!


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